Music Box
by Momo-chan X3
Summary: They were both attracted to the same thing. 1827 purely 1827.


I honestly don't know what genre this goes into. But anyways, a (much belated) birthday gift to Shin-chan. Happy Birthday -sweatdrop- I hope you like it. I added some 1827 at the very end. The VERY end. xDD?

And I am a new fan of Shikata Akiko now. Listened to her music all the way while writing this thing. ('Thing' written very loosely) But anyways, you should listen to her. She's a great artist. Very colorful.

Disclaimer. You all know I don't have it. If I did, ...hell'd break loose.

--

Music Box

He could feel the dirty water creeping up his socks as his shoes splashed over and over into the wet asphalt. His breath was short and choppy as his weak lungs grasped every bit of oxygen it could muster. He could no longer feel his legs as they moved in a regular pattern, right up, left down, switch. His undeveloped muscles ached and burned with pain as he ran through the winding alleys and corners of his hometown.

Behind him he could hear the shouts of his pursuers never getting quieter or louder, sometimes disappearing all together. He could only see his world a blur, the walls on each side surrounding him like a cage only a mass of mixed streaked colors. His ears became deaf as all he could hear was the rapid beating of his heart and his punctual weak gasps into the thinning air.

He dare not look behind him in fear of slowing down to allow his chasers catch up to him. The boy had no consciousness of his surroundings as he left the material world and ran in a dark world of his utter despair.

He dare not shut his eyes to lose his way in the maze of which he had constructed around himself, fearing getting lost and cornered as he always had done before. The sweat on his brow slipped down his cheek and fell into the puddle-ridden ground with an inaudible _splash._

He became suddenly aware of his surroundings and finally felt the cold rain pounding on his petite shoulders and the water slink slowly up his pants, freezing his already cold calves.

Somehow, in the midst of this hectic chase, he had heard something beautiful.

It was neither something scary like all those closed windows he had been running by, built by economic-aware constructors who created them all in a pattern, making him feel like he was running no where in circles. Nor was it something that frightened him to his very core like the people with knives and guns chasing him to his death.

He slowed his pace, turning corners he did not know existed before and running into dark alleys not even the bravest dare venture through.

Once again he was wrapped into his own imaginary world, though not like before. He felt no loneliness and could not hear, feel, smell, or see anything except that sound. He could not make out if it was even a tune, nor what it sounded like except the fact that it drew his very being to it. There was a change in pitch, like a new note being played in the very back of his mind, and something new feeling added to it.

He could not recognize the melody as one of the popular artists he constantly listened to or the classical music his tutor forced onto him. It was choppy yet smooth. It was moody yet naïve. It was something he could not put his finger on yet it was at the very tip of his tongue. But he knew it very well.

He stopped at one of the featureless windows and gazed up into it. He still could not tell if it were violin or something else playing. The person inside the room looked out, scaring the boy.

The person jumped down from his perch and landed with a small thud, only rippling the water he settled down in.

He spoke. "Sawada Tsunayoshi."

The boy shivered, his fear coming back. "Hibari-san."

In the distance he could hear his pursuers catching up with him and he could feel himself fall into that dark world of him always running. Hibari could fully read his bodily actions and took him by the hand and ran. Tsuna had trouble keeping up with the boy literally dragging him to keep up with the long strides of the older, taller boy.

All of a sudden, there was no one in front of him. In his hand was a small and tastefully decorated porcelain box encrusted with beautiful gold leaf.

Tsuna continued running as he gazed with glazed eyes at the delicate box. Then, as clumsily and stupidly as he could ever do, he turned much too quickly and instead of turning a corner, he ran into a wall. The boy fell to the ground, unconscious and tired.

He awoke with tired eyes as he looked at his surroundings. There were muddled voices swirling around his head and his forehead had an immense pain stopping all thoughts in his brain. He could see through blurry vision the figures of one, two, three, four, five, six people; two of which seemed to be making a transaction of some sort with large wads of cash and security suitcases.

"Eh? The little Vongola is awake."

"What should we do?"

"Tie him up."

The voices seemed so far away, as if he was on a distant island living out his days naively and uneventfully.

He looked at the box in his sweaty palms and touched the undamaged glaze and smiled sweetly at the fact that it was still unscathed. With sore arms, he slowly lifted the lid and a little ceramic bird came out on a spring, singing a silent song filled with melancholy and woe. It quietly went on with its duty, filling the room with swells and falls.

The people of the room stopped their business and stared at the tired boy with disbelief as he slowly got up from lying down.

"Kill him."

A window crashed as many rushed to the half-conscious boy. The prefect landed with just as much grace as before in front of the mafia successor, his fangs bared.

"You called?" A smug look struck fear in the very hearts of his attackers, petrifying their souls temporarily.

Hibari gazed at the exhausted boy. He kneeled down before him as if bowing and gave him a kiss on his dry lips. "Sleep." He smiled, covering the boy's eyes.

And the bloody onslaught had begun.


End file.
